Cleaning Up
by pacejunkie
Summary: Charlie and Claire return to the beach but life can’t get back to normal until Charlie has gone through one more withdrawal. Sequel to Raised By An Other. Angst.


**Title:** Cleaning Up

**Rating:** T

**Summary:** Charlie and Claire return to the beach but life can't get back to normal until Charlie has gone through one more withdrawal. Sequel to Raised By An Other.

**Characters:** Charlie/Claire

**Warnings:** Drug references.

**Disclaimer:** I don't own Lost.

**A/N:** This fic is dedicated to sapphirechild who suggested this sequel. I hope it fits the bill!

Claire couldn't sleep. She and Charlie had only returned to the beach late the previous day after their ordeal at the hands of the Others and she was unable to force the experience out of her mind. Every time she closed her eyes she saw Juliet taking Aaron from her and those horrible men pinning Charlie down and shooting him full of heroin. It was the stuff of nightmares because it had been their reality, and that was the most frightening thought of all.

Charlie had been tossing and turning right along with her on his pile of cushions not two feet away. She assumed he was having bad dreams as well, which was as understandable as it was unavoidable, so she turned away and faced Aaron making sure to keep him in her sight. Eventually she drifted off again.

When she woke with the sun she checked Aaron. The baby had slept soundly all night long, showing no signs whatever of any change to his routine. She hoped that meant that Juliet was at least being truthful when she said he was well taken care of. The infant was his usually happy self upon seeing his mum first thing in the morning and Claire smiled back. She turned back to see if Charlie was up and realized that he wasn't there. He had never been an early riser, so it struck her as unusual, but she fed Aaron and waited, assuming he'd gone for water or something and would turn back up and crawl into bed.

A half hour later she decided to take Aaron over to Kate and go looking for him. They had hardly spoken when they had returned; she suspected Charlie was feeling ashamed at his decision to take the heroin in the cell after they got him hooked again. They had both been through a trial, but Claire was determined not to let the Others win. She wouldn't let their mind games and torture interfere with the relationship she and Charlie had been trying to build. It would rise or fall on its own merits and that was that. So when they returned to the beach and watched Jack's boat disappear over the horizon, Claire took Charlie in without a second thought. They were both in need of some comfort and it would have been heartless for her to do otherwise. She knew what it had done to Charlie the last time she had turned him out, and she honestly believed this wasn't his fault.

Kate was already awake when Claire reached her tent. She was happy to take Aaron for a while, so she deposited the bundle in her arms and went off, declining Kate's offer for assistance. Claire suspected that Charlie could only have gone to one place.

She entered the jungle just past the tree line and began to walk in the direction in which she had followed Charlie just two days before. Keeping sight of the beach camp, she walked until she heard a sound and stopped. It sounded like someone retching and coughing, gasping for breath. She slowed her approach and entered the clearing just as she saw Charlie crawling over to the rock where they had sat when the Others had captured them. He buried his head in his arms on the rock surface and shook like he was freezing despite the tropical heat.

"Charlie?" she said, coming closer with caution.

He didn't lift his head to look at her, but Claire heard his muffled voice from between the sleeves of his sweatshirt. "G-Go away, Claire."

She knelt down beside him, talking to the back of his head. "I want to help you."

"You can't help me. I came here to be alone."

"You showed me this place," she challenged. "If you came here a part of you must have wanted me to find you."

He still refused to look at her, but he was shaking madly and his hands were clasped together so tightly that his knuckles were white. "Pl-Please stop trying to psychoanalyze me and just leave."

"Why?" she asked. "Do you think I don't know why you're sick? Stop trying to protect me." She reached out and grabbed his shoulder only to have him cry out and pull away, curling up tighter. She jerked her hand back.

"Don't do that……h-hurts."

"Sorry," she said, wishing that she was more of an expert on heroin withdrawal if she was going to offer her assistance.

She said nothing until Charlie spoke again, this time lifting his head slightly to peek at her. He looked gray, his eyes watery and unfocused. "Juliet was right," he said. "You're better off without me."

"No, that's not true."

"I'm not worth it, Claire," he persisted.

"Yes you are," she countered, trying to catch his gaze. "And the day you believe that is when you'll realize you don't need those drugs. You can finally stop hurting yourself."

He shook his head and began to scratch at his arms. "I can't help it. I'll never be able to……"

"Charlie I understand," she said. She was about to touch him again and then remembered and stopped, opting for eye contact in its place. "What they did to you wasn't fair. No one could have resisted that. It wasn't your fault."

He sat up a bit straighter with a groan, hands still resting on the rock. Every movement seemed like a tremendous effort, but he appeared desperate to get his point across. "Claire, you don't know me. I'm only going to disappoint you."

"I don't believe that," she said. "Not anymore."

"How can you say that after what happened?"

"I just know," she said, and despite Charlie's offer of proof, Claire had never been more sure of anything.

Too weak to protest, Charlie turned away from her and eased himself down to the ground. Claire sat with her back against the rock and watched over him, wondering how she could coax him back into their tent. He laid there with his eyes closed, fingers crawling and scratching everywhere aimlessly, ignoring her. The sun rose from the shoreline to the tops of the trees.

When he stopped fidgeting Claire thought he dozed off, but then he opened his eyes slightly and staring straight ahead began to speak. "I had this dog once. Pathetic little thing, scruffy, looked like it hadn't eaten in weeks. I found it astray when I was eight and it followed me home."

He stopped to take a strained breath for whatever strength he could gather from it. "I named him Glue because he stuck to me all the time. He wouldn't leave my side, except for when he'd run into the street. He had this habit of running straight out into traffic all the time. Stupid dog. He had a home and food. He had me, but still he didn't know what was good for him."

Charlie closed his eyes again and wiped the sweat from his face with his sleeve, gritting his teeth as he raised his arm. When he was ready he continued, "It got to where I had to watch him all the time. He was happy when he was with me, but the minute you'd open the door he'd run out."

When he paused again for air, Claire asked, "What happened to him?"

"I was supposed to be watching him, but I wanted to play with my mates and he kept getting in the way, always wanting my attention. So I put him out on the porch. The postman came round with a parcel, opened the screen door and out he went." He shivered again, and Claire didn't know if it was from the withdrawal or if he was reliving the unpleasant memory.

"I heard the car horn, the screech of the tyres and I knew. It was like it was meant to happen one day, no matter what I did. I don't know why I bothered." Charlie turned his head slowly towards her for the first time, and asked her, "Why do you bother, Claire?"

Claire inched closer, as close as she would dare. "You wouldn't leave me."

Confusion clouded his face. "What?"

"Remember that night in the caves," Claire began, "when I was having nightmares that someone was after me? You said you wouldn't leave me. You promised."

"I know and I let you down. I'm sorry……" he said.

"No, that's just it, you didn't," said Claire. "Thomas, Aaron's father, he told me he loved me, that he wanted to try and be a family, but three months later, he was gone. He just changed his mind one day. It was all too much for him. But you……Charlie," she shook her head wondering how she would get through to him. "Do you remember what happened when Ethan took us?"

Charlie was focusing on her now, giving her his full attention despite his pain, "I said I wouldn't let anything happen to you. But he took you……"

"But before that," said Claire. "You wouldn't leave. Ethan kept telling you to leave me and go back, but you wouldn't. You were as stubborn as that dog. He tried to force us apart but you refused to leave me. He threatened to kill you and still you wouldn't leave, even when I was finally begging you to go." She stopped to choke back tears. "I saw him put the vine around your neck and hang you from that tree, just before they took me away. I screamed and that's all I remember. You stayed to your _death_, Charlie."

She didn't know how often he allowed himself to think about the hanging. Claire guessed not that often. His eyes were filling with tears as he listened.

She continued, "It was the funeral that made me remember, Libby and Ana-Lucia's funerals. When Hurley spoke I looked down at the graves and I saw you again, hanging from that tree, struggling, when you could have walked away at any time. I couldn't understand why you insisted on staying when you knew rescuing me was so hopeless."

Charlie looked at her like the answer was obvious. "Don't you get it?" he said. "It didn't matter. Without you I'm nothing."

She moved closer, reaching for his trembling hand. He winced but didn't pull back. She touched his forehead as gently as she could. He was burning hot.

"Charlie, come back to the beach. You'll be more comfortable there. Let me help you."

"Are you sure?" he asked. "What about Aaron?"

"He's safe with Kate," she said. "I can check on him once I get you back. Please, Charlie. I can't leave you out here alone. I won't leave you. You're not like that dog, Charlie. You don't have to self-destruct. You have a choice."

Claire helped him as he pulled himself up to sit. He was in agony. She knew she'd have to support him for the walk back. She held onto one arm around her shoulder as he limped along like an old man without his cane. Instead of tromping through the woods in the direction of their tent she headed straight for the tree line, hoping she would spot someone on the beach who could help if Charlie gave out on her.

When they emerged onto the sand the first person to see them was Desmond. _The man was uncanny,_ thought Claire. It was as if he always knew to be in the right place at the right time.

Desmond looked at Charlie, who was hanging off of Claire only partly conscious. "Are you alright, brother?" he asked him.

"He's fine," said Claire, her struggle ending as Desmond reached out to help. "It's just the flu."


End file.
